Author's Note: What lovely activities can a ping pong racket, ping pong ball, and some boredom inspire? Mix in some (a lot of) desire and a fair amount of adrenaline, and you've got it: smut. Written for the ever so awesome Smut Club Challenge, and inspired by (based on) SussiRay's entry. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Although, I do have a ping pong set...

Location: Strauss's office
Object: Ping pong racket


"Um…Agent Prentiss?"

Emily looked up from her paperwork and saw technical agent Gina Sharp standing by her desk. "Oh. Hey, Gina. What's up?"

She smiled slightly. "Nothing really. But Strauss would like to see you in her office."

Emily stood. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "Did she happen to say why?"

"No."

The profiler sighed. "Alright then." Without another word, she left the bullpen and took off towards the section chief's office.

~.~.~

Aaron Hotchner vaguely heard the sound of heeled footsteps coming down the hallway. He looked up just in time to see Emily take a seat right next to him.

"Hey," he greeted quietly, giving her a small smile which she immediately returned.

"Hey." Crossing her legs, she said almost sarcastically, "So, she got to you, too?"

He snorted humorlessly. "Yeah. I've been waiting here for a couple of minutes. I think she's talking to Anderson."

"Hmm."

They both drifted into a somewhat awkward silence, where the only sound was Emily anxiously tapping a boot-clad foot onto the dark brown wooden floor, each sharp beat echoing loudly in the large, empty hallway.

After a few minutes, and about five exasperated sighs from Emily, Hotch finally spoke.

"You're really impatient, you know that?" he asked jokingly.

"Thanks," she answered sarcastically. Sobering, she said, "I wonder what she wants…"

"I have no idea." He paused as an idea hit him. "Hey, you don't think that she knows about -"

"No, it's impossible. We've been careful," she interrupted.

"True." But he wasn't convinced. "What if she asks?"

"Well, look at it this way," Emily began objectively. "We could lie. But if we lie, and she finds out the truth, we're going to be in deep shit."

"So…we tell her?"

"I don't know. However, she can't possibly know about us, since we haven't seen each other in -"

"Waytoo long," Hotch interjected.

"Exactly." She smiled.

"I've missed you, you know," he said quietly.

"I know. Same here," Emily responded.

"Maybe…if we don't have a case this weekend…you could come over to my place? For dinner?"

Emily didn't get a chance to answer because suddenly, Strauss's office door opened and Anderson emerged, saying, "She'll see you both now."

The two agents rose from their chairs and walked into the evil woman's lair, Hotch shooting Anderson a glare in the process.

"Have a seat," Strauss said coldly. They obliged.

"With all due respect, ma'am," Emily said, in a tone that didn't convey too much respect, "What is this about?"

"I will get to that in a moment, Agent Prentiss," the woman replied brusquely. Emily rolled her eyes. "As I was about to say," she continued, "I've had an agent approach me and say that he has seen some…things…between you both."

"What sort of things?" Hotch asked, as Emily asked, "Which agent?"

"That isn't really your business," Strauss said, in a chastising tone of voice.

"Well, seeing as this pertains to us, I don't see how it isn't our business," Emily said, getting more and more pissed off.

"Emily…" Hotch whispered. She turned to him and shot him a look that visibly said, "Don't Emily me."

"Agent Prentiss, do not use that tone with me." Emily scoffed and would have said something else, but the section chief's phone rang. "Erin Strauss. Yes…now? I'm in the middle of something…Well, if it's absolutely urgent…yes, I'll be there in five minutes." She turned to the two silent agents sitting in front of her. "Something important has come up. It will only take around thirty minutes, so it would be best if you just stay here." And without further ado, Erin Strauss left the office.

Leaning back in her chair, Emily scoffed. "I hate that bitch…"

"Emily, calm down," Hotch said, placing his hand on her arm.

"I can't! She brings out my bad side!"

"She's looking for any small excuse to tarnish your record. You know that," he continued, the voice of reason.

"I doknow that. But who does she think she is? 'Agent Prentiss, do not use that tone with me,'" she mocked. "Like I'm a rebellious teenager and she's my mother." Hotch was about to speak again, but she cut him off. "Don't forget, she's the one who told me to be her spy and find some dirt on you so she could fire you."

He grimaced. "I will never be able to forget that. And I honestly don't blame you for being pissed. But please don't give her any excuses." He paused. "But…to your credit, you never did tell her anything about me."

"Of course not." She smiled. "You didn't know it at the time, but I had some pretty strong feelings for you."

He grinned, and they drifted back into silence. Bored, Emily looked around the room, her gaze landing on something oddly out of place.

"Why the hell does she have a ping pong racket on her desk?"

Hotch glanced at where Emily was motioning to. Sure enough, a red, wooden racket was sitting on the corner, on top of a group of files. "Where's the ball?" he asked.

"Here." Emily picked up the small white ball and placed it on the racket. Bouncing it up and down, she filled the office with the sound of small taps.

He smirked. "Wow, you must really be bored."

"There's nothing fun to do in here," she explained. Barely a few seconds later, she felt Hotch's hand creeping up her shirt. Catching the ball, she slapped his hand with the racket. "Aaron Hotchner, just what do you think you're doing?"

"Having fun," he replied innocently, his hand traveling higher. "Besides, we have thirty minutes…"

"Is this some bizarre fantasy of yours?" she asked jokingly. "Banging it out in Strauss's office with the risk that we could be caught?"

"Maybe…but when you say it like that, it sounds horrible." His lips found the corner of her mouth. "Come on, it's been forever. And we'll make it quick."

Emily spun around. There was a couch… "Fine with me," she relented, standing.

A school-boyish grin slowly spread across Aaron's face. "Perfect."